


The Firelands: Caught in the Smoke

by SilyaBeeodess



Series: Clocks and Spirits [2]
Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Cut Scene, the firelands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22416610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilyaBeeodess/pseuds/SilyaBeeodess
Summary: Temporarily trapped the Firelands, the Badge Seller reflects on the broken state of his captor and fellow captive.
Relationships: Caught in the Smoke
Series: Clocks and Spirits [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613260
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	The Firelands: Caught in the Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to explore Kit’s psychology a bit more through the Badge Seller’s perspective since there are some aspects I didn’t get to cover as much as I would’ve liked in “The Firelands.” Just kind of a short piece that takes place before the events of the story.

There is was again: The smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, the laugh that was so charming, so full, so _desperate–_ as though the feeling of laughter was entirely new and she would never know it again after this moment, so she clung to it. She held onto the feeling so tightly that she fooled herself into believing it was real. 

If it weren’t for the Badge Seller’s wealth of experience, the young woman might have fooled them too. Much like her vulpine abductors, she was a vision of warmth and light. Her irises glistened like twin suns and her wild locks moved like fire as they rolled across the golden glow of her skin. The deception, however, was short-lived thanks to the prominence of her markings; on her arms, her legs, and around the rims of her eyes. They were proof of not only the intense inferno welled inside her, but of the miserable years spent nursing it.

“Tell another!” she warbled, grinning up at them from where she sat on the hard earth of her ‘den.’ “Just one more.”

They held back a sigh. This was their own fault, really; the vendor hadn’t been cautious enough. Their carelessness had brought them one step too close to a cursed painting–leading to their essence becoming trapped first in it and then in a puff of smoke once it was later drawn from the ashes. They’d known that Subcon Forest was even more dangerous at this time of year, when the fire spirits conducted their rituals and laid even more traps to add to the Snatcher’s own. Their steady watch over the hatted child was no excuse, not when they were more than aware of the forest’s hidden threats. 

Well, the Badge Seller only needed to be patient. They knew the fire spirits’ behaviors better than most. They also knew more about this woman–this vixen–than possibly anyone living. They weren’t the sort of person the foxes were drawn to most. Eventually, the spirits would grow tired of them, and they wouldn’t like their pet spending so much time listening to the vendor when there was fun to be had elsewhere. Either she herself would too grow bored and would set them free or the spirits would inevitably take action themselves. 

He also knew that the woman was just trying to experience a fleeting moment’s companionship in some way a poor, broken thing like her could. She begged for stories: It didn’t matter what it was about, or if it was true or not, so long as it was interesting–and it took _a lot_ to disinterest her. There were so many places she’d never go to, people she’d never meet. She used stories like currency, waving freedom before her captive’s in exchange. She couldn’t with the Badge Seller though, not when they knew why she wanted them.

“What’s even the point of all this, vixen?”

“Come on, come on!” she chortled in reply, her tail sweeping the ground behind her, “Why not talk? Not going anywhere yet.”

They could always refuse to play along, ignore her entirely. That was the quickest way to dissuade her, but she had something of theirs that they held in reserve: She had the Badge Seller’s pity. 

The vendor wouldn’t say it, but they’d seen her before, tiptoeing around the edge of the burning forest, near the border she’d never willingly cross, before a sound would spook her back to the Firelands. She was strong enough break through that barrier, but not mentally. If it wasn’t her shattered mind and the disillusioned affection she held for the fire spirits, it was fear toward Subcon Forest’s many dangers keeping her from ever daring to escape. The foxes didn’t mean to–just like how they didn’t mean to break her in the first place, they weren’t clever enough to know better–but they’d cemented those feelings in her. The woman had already been chosen as a favored playmate, but she’d become a more-or-less content prisoner. Even if someone ever came to her rescue, she’d likely reject it.

Nevertheless, there had to be a hidden part of her that still understood these wrongs–otherwise she wouldn’t crave this so much. 

The Badge Seller tried tapping into that. They had been humoring her for some time, telling story after story, silently reading her all the while, but they _were_ growing tired of it themselves. “What kind of void do you think you’re filling? What kind of story do you want to hear? They won’t do you any good, but go on–tell me.

“How much longer, vixen? You wait year after year for these sorts of fleeting connections, but that’s all they are: Fleeting. Soon enough, your other captives and I will be gone, back to our own lives, but you’ll still be here. So what’s the point of trying to grasp something so beyond your reach?”

A bandage could only do so much for someone bleeding as heavily as she was.

There it was: The cracks in the smile. The rising steam in place of tears made impossible to shed. The conflicted look in her eyes for why there were there to begin with, because she refused to answer. 

“Crying doesn’t suit you, vixen,” the Badge Seller muttered with a silent huff, watching her. Then, feeling that they’d said enough, relented just a bit, “Fine then. Just one more.”


End file.
